The Real Hatsumomo
by CodeAires
Summary: A UCLA student discovers that her great-grandmother had once been known as Hatsumomo, the notorious bad girl from Memoirs of a Geisha. Finally, Hatsumomo's own memoirs will be shared with the world.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

On the eve before my 21st birthday, I made a trip to visit my grandmother in Santa Monica. She had requested that I visit her before my official party the next day to discuss "something important". For many people of my generation, visiting family members is considered such a chore, but for me, it's an enjoyable experience. I've always been close to my family, especially Grandmother, who never ceased to spoil me rotten even when my parents begged her not to. Her arms - and her kitchen - are always open to her grandchildren, and I take full advantage any chance that I can.

Her spacious condominium by the sea shore had been a favorite destination of mine since childhood, simply because I found the traditional lifestyle of my grandparents to be so fascinating. You see, I am mostly Japanese, and despite the cultural assimilation my parents accepted, Grandmother and Grandfather always refused to change their ways. I have early memories of Grandmother in beautifully decorated kimono; her auburn hair and hazel eyes were muted enough to make the fabric's colors seem even more brilliant. In actuality, she is only 1/2 Japanese; my maternal great-grandfather was Irish.

I knew very little about my great-grandparents. My great-grandfather, Joseph Donahue, had died several years before I was born. Apparently he had been a corporal in the US army during World War II, and played a vital role in Japan's reconstruction thereafter. He had met my great-grandmother, Hoshi, in a hospital that some of his men were stationed at. After dating for about a year, they moved back to the United States and settled into a very typical Eisenhower-era domestic lifestyle. Hoshi worked at a dance studio and had actually been an instructor to several well-known stars in Hollywood. Sadly, by the time I was born, she had resorted to living out the remainder of her life in a tiny room of Grandmother's condo.

What few memories I have of Hoshi are very vivid ones. Even in her late '80s, she was a strong woman who had no trouble corralling all her descendents into one room to tell stories of her youth in Japan. "At one time, I was one of the most famous dancers in Kyoto", she would tell us, "Dancing has always been my passion. Nothing in this world sets your spirit free in quite the same way". Often she would take to showing us children some of her signature moves that had been perfected over the decades. My little brother, my cousins, and I would watch in amazement - this wrinkled little old lady could move with more grace and precision than someone a fraction of her age.

For some reason I was her favorite, and she often summoned me to her room to observe her gift of performance. It wasn't long before she began to give me many tips on how to become a great performer myself. "Mandy-chan, I want you to stand up straight", she'd tell me, "You have the body of a dancer, but you won't keep it if you continue to slouch". Then she would take a large folding fan, larger than any I had seen sold in department stores, and turn it into whatever she saw fit for it to be. Sometimes she would perform a dance called "forbidden sight", in which a young maiden playfully hides behind her fan in hopes that the man of her affection will fall in love from only catching a glimpse of her eyes. Just two years before her death, when I was five years old, she taught me how to perform this routine step by step. Even to this day, I can recite it perfectly.

All of these thoughts were running through my head as I knocked on Grandmother's door. Her phone call to me had been vague, which was completely out of her nature. "It's a family matter", she had told me, "Something that your great-grandmother wanted you to know". Her words reminded me of Hoshi's funeral. It was a Protestant ceremony, since she had converted to Christianity after marrying Joseph. A pastor was found who could speak both English and Japanese, and while the ceremony was beautiful, it was also bittersweet. She had lived such a long, rich life, but being a selfish girl, I couldn't let her go. Despite only knowing Hoshi for seven years, I felt like our souls were bound together in a strange way. This is something that Grandfather described as an "en" - a karmatic bond one shares with another person. Undoubtedly there was an en between Hoshi and myself. Everything that she had been, I wanted to be as well.

"Come right in", Grandmother said upon opening the door, "I have some tea ready for you".

I removed my sandals before entering the den, where the comforting scent of tea and cookies greeted my nose as they always had. Grandmother returned to the room with a rather plain-looking box and knelt across from me at the little table.

"I won't keep you long," she told me, "I know how busy you are with planning the party tomorrow"

"It's okay. You know how much I enjoy my time with you!"

"Don't humor me. You're young! You shouldn't be weighed down by an old woman like myself"

I didn't want to answer her, so instead I sipped my tea in silence. Grandmother opened the box before me, revealing three notebooks, much like the ones I use for taking notes in college. The first notebook, which was bright yellow, was completely filled with Japanese characters from the first page to the very last. Admittedly I don't know Japanese at all (bar a few phrases); my parents raised me to speak English, and other family members were forced to adopt English as their primary language.

"Your great-grandmother told me to give this to you," Grandmother said, "These pages will reveal more about our family than you could ever fathom knowing"

"But Grandmother, I don't understand Japanese!"

"Don't worry about that - over the years I've translated some of it for you. Still I thought it would be best to show you her original manuscript first"

_Manuscript? Isn't that what the draft of a published literary work was called?_, I thought to myself.

Next, Grandmother removed a small envelope, which had been placed underneath the notebooks. She pulled out three photographs which I had certainly never seen before. One photo was of a young geisha dancing on the stage of a grand theatre.

"This was your great-grandmother when she was just a teenager", Grandmother said, "She landed a very important role in _Dances of the Old Capital_ that year. After this performance, everyone in Kyoto knew her name"

"Everyone knew of Hoshi?" I asked.

"Well, no one called her Hoshi in those days", Grandmother replied with a little smile.

Over the years I wondered if Hoshi had once been a geisha, but no one had ever mentioned such a thing. Now I knew that not only had she been a geisha, but she was really quite famous in her day.

I hoped that Grandmother would explain the other two photos, and that's exactly what she did. The next photo was of the same geisha, my Hoshi, standing next to a very strange looking man.

"This was the great Kabuki actor Bando Sojiro VI", Grandmother explained, "They were close friends. He even mimicked her dance moves in his own performances"

The last photo was the one that struck me the most peculiar. There stood my grandmother in front of a very traditional looking Japanese building, but I wasn't sure what sort. A woman was sparking a flint behind her back, while another older woman stood nearby. Also in the photo were two young girls, one another geisha and another who looked rather plain. The back of the photo contained more Japanese characters.

"It reads, 'Adopting my younger sister, March 1935. Leaving the Nitta Okiya'", Grandmother said.

I felt as though someone had jabbed a knife in the base of my spine. Was this the same Nitta Okiya mentioned by the legendary geisha Sayuri?

"Amanda, you were too little to know the truth when your great-grandmother passed. It is true that she was known as a great dancer, but she also had another sort of reputation that the great Sayuri detailed in her memoirs"

My eyes grew wide and I gasped aloud, spilling tea onto the carpet.

"Grandmother! Do you mean to say that…"

"This girl right here," Grandmother said, pointing to the younger geisha in the picture, "Is Pumpkin. The little maid here is Chiyo, who became Sayuri. And your great-grandmother…well, they called her Hatsumomo"

By the time those words left Grandmother's lips, I was in complete shock. How could my great-grandmother, Hoshi Donahue, who had always exuded a stern form of compassion, be the same woman who did so many horrible things to the great Sayuri and many of her other peers?

"You've got to be kidding!" I blurted.

"Would I really kid about such a thing? She didn't even tell me the truth about her past until I was a grown woman myself! She held a great deal of guilt about the woman she was before meeting your great-grandfather Joseph, and with good reason. If anyone had known her true identity, she could have never led a normal life"

As the conversation progressed, everything began to make more sense. As my mother's life radically changed from that of a disgraced geisha to one of a Hollywood choreographer, she wanted to bury the past completely. Then in the mid-1980's, when Joseph was diagnosed with stomach cancer, she came to realize that making peace with the past was mandatory. One of Joseph's last wishes was for her to write her memoirs, since very few geisha had ever openly discussed their lives. For the next decade or so she quietly detailed her whole life in Japanese, intending for only Grandmother to read her manuscript before the final publication would be produced.

Then in 1996, Japanese historian Jakob Haarhuis published Sayuri's memoirs, simply titled _Memoirs of a Geisha._ To no one's surprise, the book was a tremendous success. My generation's obsession with all things Japanese extended to more traditional art forms as well, so Sayuri's detailed accounts of being a geisha overwhelmed many who took the time to learn. Hoshi was so distraught over Sayuri's memoirs that she abandoned the dream of publishing her own. Hatsumomo was a great villain in the eyes of readers, and to keep from bringing shame upon her family, Hoshi decided that her story would be left untold. However, she had specified in her will that the memoirs would be given to me as a special present upon turning 21 years of age.

"But why me?" I asked Grandmother, "Why did she want me to have all of this?"

"She held very high hopes for you. One of her dreams was to have a daughter who was a great dancer as she had been. Unfortunately, I made some foolish decisions in my youth and broke her heart. Your mother was much too clumsy to ever take the stage, so she had almost given up entirely until you were born. Amanda, her dream is for you to become a dancer. I know you have your heart set on journalism, but please re-consider. It would be the best way to honor the memory of a woman who was so painfully misunderstood"

Now here I am, seven months later, ready to tell the real story of Hatsumomo. Aside from college, I've spent a tremendous amount of time preparing her memoirs to be suitable enough to publish. Who cares if the public still sees her as a monster? In reality, she had suffered through many ordeals that were much worse than Sayuri could have even comprehended. Hoshi had to become bitter and tough to survive in Gion, because no one besides her late father had ever shown her how to love. Perhaps now people will get to know Hoshi Takeda-Donahue, once the great (or wicked) Hatsumomo, as a real flesh-and-blood woman who hoped and dreamed for the good life like so many before her. Thanks to my great-grandfather teaching her how to believe in herself, her dreams finally came true.

Amanda Sayagawa

Current UCLA student and proud descendent of Hatsumomo


	2. Chapter I

**CHAPTER I**

It is currently raining outside my bedroom window, which is somewhat of a relief. A wildfire nearly destroyed all of the palm trees that lined the courtyard of my daughter's back yard. It's a literal miracle from God that the whole property wasn't engulfed in flames. For some reason, we were spared. Now as I watch the rain fall upon the charred ashes, it reminds me that life itself is temporary. Fire burns down the normalcy that we as human beings have worked so hard to maintain, and then the water simply washes it all away, leaving the barren ground begging for mercy.

My life has been a raging wildfire in many respects from the very day I was born. As the daughter of a popular business owner, I was a firecracker whose sparks stung the hands of any child who got in my way. As a geisha in Gion, I was the brightest burning star for a number of years, allowing my rays of light to scorch a multitude of young faces, leaving them thirsty and hopeless. As a dance instructor in California, I was much like an old candle - my flame lit the way for numerous others to pursue their dreams, even if fatigue was slowly melting me down. Now the flame deep inside of my soul is slowly flickering out, and just as my late husband was swept away by death's unyielding current, one day I will be extinguished in the same manner.

Water and fire are natural enemies. Fire loathes water for hindering its ability to ruin everything it touches, yet water also fears fire for its unyielding tenacity. As one might guess, I have a great deal of fire in my personality, something that was pointed out by an elderly fortune teller who lived across the street from my childhood home. "Keep your eye on this girl", she had warned my father, "If you don't find a way to control her temper, she will wreak havoc on this whole city". Really, I think the old woman was being quite biased, either because my brother and I often ate vegetables from the little garden she kept in her back yard, or because she possessed a great deal of water in her character.

In the city I grew up in, a majority of the citizens were either ruled by water or fire. I was born in Ofunato, a mid-sized city in Northeastern Japan. Ofunato has always been notorious for its turbulent weather, since tsunamis and earthquakes are commonplace disasters which every generation learns to cope with. An undersea volcano also terrorized local citizens; the fiery eruptions could trigger a number of violent weather events. I remember feeling tremors under my futon at night, and being afraid to die, I would beg my big brother Daisuke to let me hold onto him until the rumblings subsided.

Daisuke and I were close as children, even though he was twelve years older than me. He was a little charmer who could convince even the old and wise to believe whatever he told them. Combined with my predisposition for mischeif, much trouble was caused betwixt us. If it weren't for our love of mischeif, no one would have ever guessed that we were siblings. Daisuke looked nothing like me, nor did he look like Mother or Father. Finally one day I asked Daisuke why he looked so different from the rest of the family. That's when he revealed to me that we were only half-siblings. Father had been married to another woman in the nearby town of Sanriku before he married my Mother, and Daisuke was the only child she was able to give him. Surely they would have continued on as a happy family, but the terrible tsunami that struck Sanriku in 1896 took the poor woman into her next life. Father and Daisuke had made it out of their little beach house and found safety, but Daisuke's mother wasn't so lucky. While trying to save the family dog from drowning, she unfortunately went under herself.

After a period of grieving, Father moved to Ofunato to start a new life, and soon he met my mother. Father must have married her because she was extraordinarily beautiful, or perhaps being the daughter of a wealthy landlord with noble ancestry made him feel more financially secure. Either way, something compelled Father to marry again, and within two years Daisuke had a baby sister to keep him company. The first time Father held me, he was standing by the window of our house. It was a startlingly clear night, so clear in fact that the contellations reflected in my large brown eyes, making them glisten. "You're my little star", he said to me, "And that's why I'll convince your mother to name you Hoshi!"

And indeed I was called Hoshi during those years, Takeda Hoshi to be exact. My name was well-known to the other children in my suburban neighborhood for two reasons - my father owned a very successful candy store in the heart of the city, and as mentioned, I was frequently getting into trouble. Either way, I had a gang of friends that made the dusty streets of Ofunato our own little kingdom. My best friend, a chubby girl named Junko, was my preferred partner in crime. We played so many practical jokes on our poor school teacher Ms. Inoue that she became hard and bitter, even taking out her frustrations on the other children. None of our classmates seemed to mind though, because Father's treats would always silence them. Being Daddy's girl definitely had its perks.

To this day it greatly saddens me to see so many American men who have little to no interest in raising their sons and daughters. In my day, men took pride in being fathers, and my father was no exception. In fact, Father was exceptionally good with all children, which was fortunate considering the type of business he operated. Father welcomed children of all kinds into his candy store, even those that the local toy stores would turn away. One memory of mine stands out above the rest as a testament to my father's kindness. When I was about six years old, a fisherman and his two sons were making their way across the street to a market to sell their goods. The boys were running around and playing games, until the oldest boy fell and skinned his knee on the concrete of the road. He was crying so loudly that my father ran out of the store to see if he was hurt. I ran outside too, and sadly the only thing I could focus on was not the boy's crying. The whole family smelled of fish, rotting fish to be exact. It was hideous and I held my nose to keep from vomiting.

"Hoshi, don't do that!" Father scolded before turning to the boy, "Little one, are you alright?"

"Well he didn't break skin, thank heavens!" The boy's father said.

Father motioned for the man and his children to come inside, and he offered the boys sweet rice cakes with peach flavoring.

"I'm afraid I have no money," The boys' father said.

"Don't worry about it" My father said with a smile.

This is exactly how Father always carried himself. He was a gentle man with a sense of calm that I found re-assuring. Even after a long day of work, he was unusually cheerful. The old fortuneteller attributed his even demeanor to having an even balance of water and wood in his personality. Whatever the reason, I was more than thankful. Even when he would punish me, it would still come from a place of compassion.

As for Mother, most of her energy was spent on attending social engagements and keeping herself looking flawless. She used her beauty as a tool (or a weapon) to get what she wanted, and Father never seemed to mind. I have very few fond memories of Mother. My earliest memories involve me watching Mother as she brushed her long, thick hair every night before bedtime. Sometimes she would turn around and give me her little crooked smirk before finding a condescending phrase to shoo me away. I don't think she ever cared about being a mother at all; it's as if she saw me and Daisuke as accessories to be displayed before her upper-crust friends to keep them impressed.

Besides beauty and money, Mother cared a great deal about drinking. Before becoming a landlord, my maternal grandfather made a small fortune by importing foreign beer and spirits into Japan. Mother's liquor cabinet was kept full because Grandfather was a willing enabler. The never-ending flow of alcohol made her a favorite at social gatherings. Father knew better than to interfere with Mother's plans, lest he wanted to bear the brunt of her vicious temper. There were at least two well-known incidents involving Mother getting into a fight with guests, one of which ended with her spending a few nights at the local jailhouse. As I would later learn, the scandal almost ruined Father's business, but Grandfather's influence over the community ensured that most would forget about what had happened.

No matter how much of a fool Mother made of herself, Father would forgive her and try to forget her wrongdoings. Believe me, Mother's wrongdoings would multiply in number as the years went by. If she had a violent temper with party guests and even her own husband, eventually that temper would be unloaded onto her children. Up until the age of five, Mother never so much as laid a hand on me, but one fateful day triggered a series of events that would completely change my life for the worse.


	3. Chapter II

**NOTE: I HAVE NOT ABANDONED THIS STORY! Sorry for not updating as frequently as I should - school and work have taken up a lot of my time. Chapters might come once or twice a month, so please be patient! :)**

**CHAPTER II**

There were five women that I called "mother" at different stages of my life, but the word itself has never carried much positivity. Three of my so-called "mothers" were nothing more than cynical disciplinarians who had little interest in me as a person. They certainly weren't going to love me, but they would welcome my presence as long as I continued to turn a profit. Many years later, I was given a mother-in-law that never saw me as anything other than the "dirty Jap" that took her son away.

My birth mother, as mentioned, was never concerned with being a parent to me or Daisuke. The only time we were treated like her children was when she took us to visit Grandfather on his sprawling country estate on the outskirts of town. There is no adequate way to describe how influential of a man he was. Father's little business made a fat sum of cash, but it was Grandfather who truly supported our family. He was one of the first men in Northern Japan to own a motor car and he could even afford to bring electricity to the dozens of homes that he purchased in the extended Iwate prefecture. His house was larger than Ofunato's town hall, and was positioned on top of a hill so that it appeared to engulf the city entirely.

As the only child of a wealthy man, Mother never knew any sort of real adversity. Like me, she was Daddy's Little Girl and could always sweet-talk her way into doing whatever she pleased. This is probably the top reason why she was so eager for her children to attend Grandfather's parties - the presence of my brother and I would bring out his charitable side, and Mother would end up leaving with another extravagant gift, like an entire case of aged French wine or a Western-style mink coat. In the rare occasion that Grandfather would resist Mother's pleas for new gifts; she would say something like "Oh Father, what will the ladies about town say if they see me in the same old dresses month after month? Surely they will deem Koji-san incapable of caring for a woman like me! Can you imagine the shame?" Koji was my father's given name, but Mother only used it out of desperation. At all other times, she simply called my father "Him".

Grandfather was just as eager to have Mother at his social gatherings as Mother was to attend them. Influential men like to keep company with other influential men, but every influential man needs to have a demure wife he can toss about. Grandfather stayed busy with his work much of the time, but once every two weeks or so he would throw a party for his business partners and associates. Since Grandfather's wife had died a number of years earlier, he often asked Mother to act in her place. I remember being bored at most of these parties, because Mother always wanted me to sit still or bow to all the guests as they arrived. Daisuke had more luck with skipping out on Grandfather's gatherings than I did since his help was needed to prepare sweets at Father's store. Being the cute little girl that I was, Mother kept me on display at every single one of these parties as if I was one of the gaudy diamond rings she lined along her fingers.

Then one spring day in 1912, when I was just five years old, the monotony of Grandfather's parties was broken by an extraordinary guest. A rather jubilant man of Grandfather's age, introduced to us as Mr. Yamada, had recently relocated to Ofunato from Osaka after retiring from his job as a college professor. There was nothing particularly interesting about him, but his wife was a different affair. Mrs. Yamada was much younger than her husband, and she carried herself with a certain world-weary dignity that I wasn't used to seeing in the women Mother considered friends. After a lengthy story about a recent trip to Shanghai over dinner, Mr. Yamada formally introduced us to the woman that had captivated all of Grandfather's many guests.

"Well now, enough about me! My achievements pale in comparison to my Kumiyo! She has had the pleasure of meeting the Emperor!"

"Really!" Said Grandfather, "How did the Emperor come across a woman like you?"

"I played the role of Lady Murasaki Shibiku in _Dances of the Old Capital_" Kumiyo explained, "The Emperor happened to be in attendance, and he was so overwhelmed by my performance that he summoned me to a private party in Tokyo the following month. This was about five years ago, when I was one of the top Geisha in Gion"

My eyebrows scrunched together as Kumiyo told her story. "Geisha" was a new word to me, but I soon figured out that Kumiyo had been some sort of entertainer. I don't remember a great deal of what she said, because I was too fixated on her appearance. She was the only woman I had ever seen whose beauty could rival Mother's. Kumiyo had rather large eyes, but they didn't look oversized for her egg-shaped face. Her pale skin and petite frame reminded me of a porcelain figurine that my friend Junko's mother kept on a shelf in her bedroom. I became so lost in these thoughts that the sound of Mother's voice made me jump in my seat.

"I can imagine that the Emperor enjoyed you in more ways than one", Mother quipped, "I've heard many stories about Geisha and what they become accustomed to doing for fame"

"Well I'm sure you have heard many stories from your friends, each of whom married their way into an endless supply of income" Kumiyo answered, "But a true geisha would never let a man purchase her. We're artists, not commodities"

"Mrs. Yamada, I'll have you know that I was already taken care of before marrying my husband," Mother said, her words carrying a certain bite.

"Those who earn a living do a greater good than those who inherit a fortune. Think about it, would a flower rather have a bee pollenating its seeds or a maggot chewing away at its leaves?"

Grandfather let out a little chuckle at this statement, as did Mr. Yamada.

"She's a real firecracker!" Mr. Yamada exclaimed, "That's what I love about her!"

Mother, who had already drunk a great deal of whiskey by this time, took her arm and swiped three plates off of the dinner table, spilling roasted pork and miso soup onto the wooden floor below. Two maids rushed to clean up the mess, but Mother grabbed one by the arm and tossed her aside.

"Come on Hoshi, we're leaving!" she said to me.

"No!" I yelled back.

"Go outside and cool off," Grandfather told Mother, "Let Hoshi stay"

At his command, Mother stormed out of the room, slamming the screen door shut. Kumiyo looked startled by what had just unfolded, so I decided to apologize on Mother's behalf.

"Mrs. Yamada, I'm terribly sorry" I said, giving her a little bow, "Mother is easily upset by unkind words"

"More like she's easily upset by the presence of greatness," Grandfather said.

"It's quite alright. Believe me, I knew a few women back in Gion with tempers much worse" Kumiyo answered.

"That's why they fell so short and you succeeded!" Mr. Yamada answered, "I think we need to break the tension a bit. Kumiyo, I suggest you show our new friends the dance you performed at the Emperor's party!"

Kumiyo reluctantly agreed to dance for us, and Mr. Yamada summoned one of his assistants to play a simple string instrument known as a samisen to accompany her. Once Kumiyo stood up from the table, I could finally get a good look at her kimono. It was a brilliant golden yellow color with soft turquoise-colored water designs at the hem, which rose into a wave that reached her hip, just stopping at her obi. She smoothed out a little fold in the fabric before giving a hand signal to the samisen player. He began to pluck a few little notes here and there for tuning, but on Kumiyo's cue he played a rather simplistic tune. Kumiyo stood up straight, holding her arms above her head, and then slowly she began to bend backwards towards the floor. I let out a little gasp, because she looked like a twig about to snap in half. To my relief, she didn't snap at all. Instead, Kumiyo brought her body back into an upright position and fluttered about the room with light steps.

Some of the guests began talking quietly amongst themselves, and even Grandfather seemed to lose interest as the performance continued. As for me, I was completely transfixed. Kumiyo didn't even seem like a human being. She was a mesmerizing figure of otherworldly proportions. For an instant I imagined myself in her body, radiating beauty and strength with every precise twist and turn. It was at that very moment that I realized what I wanted to be when I got older. I wanted to be a dancer, but not just any old kind - I wanted to be the kind of dancer who attracted the attention of important people like the emperor. Being a dancer meant being somebody of worth, and I wanted, above all else, to be a girl of value.

Kumiyo's performance came to an end, and after a round of applause Mr. Yamada stood proudly next to his wife.

"That's what made me fall in love with her!" he said, "She's very limber in all the right ways!"

"So I see!" one of the female partygoers said, "I saw a geisha performance just last summer but none of those girls were nearly as graceful! You have a real gift, Kumiyo! Why on earth did you want to give it all up?"

"What did I give up?" Kumiyo asked, "I didn't give up anything. I found love and wanted to move on with my life. Besides, my honorable husband is going to help me create a new dance academy in the heart of town!"

"How exciting!" Grandfather exclaimed, "This city could stand to have a bit of culture!"

Normally it would be rude for a little girl to speak up in the presence of elders like Grandfather and Mr. Yamada, but I wanted Kumiyo to notice me.

"Mrs. Yamada, can I be a dancer, too?" I asked.

For a moment Kumiyo looked at me with a sort of hesitance, but then she crouched down and took a good look at my face.

"You are a very lovely girl" she said, "Lovely girls are always chosen to be dancers. How old are you?"

"I'm five years old, Ma'am"

"Really..."

Kumiyo stood up and turned to Grandfather, and they both walked out of the room together with Mr. Yamada following close behind. I couldn't hear what their conversation because of all the noise, so I decided to head towards the hallway and listen in. My plan was rendered useless when Grandfather saw me roll back the screen. He told me to go outside and look for Mother, so I stepped out the back door and into a grand courtyard where Mother often did her sulking. There I found Mother laying on the cobblestone walkway. She was soaking wet from head to toe but didn't seem to care.

"Mother, what happened?" I asked her.

"I fell in the fountain" she answered.

"How did you fall in-"

"You ask too many questions. The more you ask, the less you'll know. Just go back inside and fetch my cigarettes"

"I don't know where your cigarettes are"

"Then find them! I can't walk back into the house like this, especially with that prissy little bitch in there!"

"Kumiyo?"

"Whatever"

"Did you know she's going to be a dance teacher?"

"Did you know that I really could care less? Go get my cigarettes!"

There was nothing else I could say to her, so I went back inside, desperately looking for a pack of cigarettes that didn't belong to somebody else. I was stamping about rather loudly as my frustration grew. This was an unconscious habit of mine, so I didn't realize how silly I looked scuffing my feet across the wooden floors. Finally I spotted Mother's cigarettes sitting on a small table next to the staircase. I headed towards the back door with my feet still making noise, but someone was blocking my path.

"Goodness! You'll never even make it past the first lesson if you wear out your feet!"

Kumiyo let out a little laugh, but after seeing the upset look on my face, her tone changed.

"Little girl, is something wrong?"

"I have to give these cigarettes to my mother or she'll get mad!"

"Your mother isn't the most agreeable person, is she?"

"I don't know"

My head dropped towards the floor, but Kumiyo lifted my chin up.

"Your name is Hoshi, right?"

"Yes Ma'am"

"Well Hoshi, I had a talk with your grandfather, and he thinks it would be a good idea to enroll you into my dance classes. He's going to lease a building for me and my husband to use as a dance academy for girls. When the deal is finalized, you will become my student"

Like water evaporating from a boiling pot, my frustration dissolved when I heard Kumiyo's words. I would learn how to dance, and this amazing woman would be my teacher! A large smile formed on my face, and Kumiyo smiled back.

"Of course, your parents will need to approve of these lessons as well," she continued, "Perhaps your father holds you in higher regard"

"I'll ask Mother and Father if I can be your student"

"Good. When you get an answer, tell your grandfather so he can tell me. I hope to see you again soon"

A few minutes later, Kumiyo and Mr. Yamada departed, and soon all the other guests made their way outside onto the little cobblestone walkway which led to several awaiting coaches. Once the house was empty, Grandfather took me by the hand and led me to an upstairs guest room.

"I'm going to have a talk with your mother," he said, "Don't come downstairs until the maid summons you"

"Yes, sir"

The brief stillness that had fallen over Grandfather's property would soon be disrupted by Mother's shouting. I remember peering down into the courtyard from the guest room and seeing Grandfather try to carry her back inside the house. He had to pin her arms behind her back so that she wouldn't try to swing at him. Once inside the house, their confrontation erupted into an all-out battle. Much of the conversation escapes me, probably because I wanted to blot it out of my memory. I do remember Mother's tone of voice change from her familiar high-pitched shriek to her even more familiar pitiful choke. Mother was a very good actress and could make herself cry effortlessly.

"I'm not going to have you stay in this house in this condition! Your coach is waiting outside. You need to go home, and Hoshi needs to get some sleep in her own futon. Don't disagree with my any longer! Go change into something dry and head home"

Mother was escorted to another upstairs room, where a maid helped her change into a simple cotton robe. After a considerable struggle, Mother finally stumbled downstairs, and Grandfather told the maid to bring me downstairs so that Mother and I could leave.

The coach ride home was extremely unpleasant. Like most girls, I was terribly afraid of the dark, but I was even more afraid of Mother. Her hangover was already starting to settle in, and she kept one hand pressed against her forehead while the other flicked cigarette ashes out of the window. Mother was a chain-smoker, so she lit up another cigarette after the first one was finished. The smell of smoke was so strong that I couldn't keep from coughing.

"Shut up" she said under her breath.

My eyes were watering and my throat felt sore. I tried to hold my breath, but before long I was gasping for air and coughing again.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"I can't breathe!"

"Well I can't think with you making so much noise!"

"I can't breathe, Mother!"

Mother had a keen sense of knowing what bothered the people around her. She pulled me by the hair and took a long drag from the cigarette before blowing the smoke right in my face. The smile she wore was so void of true sentiment that it sickened me. Acting on childish impulse, I slapped the cigarette out of her hand. This was the absolute wrong thing to do, because Mother yanked my hair so hard that I was begging for mercy.

"That geisha whore smokes too! Would you slap her cigarettes away?"

"Please let me go!"

"She wouldn't want anything to do with a brat girl like you!"

"She wants me to be her student!"

"Of course she does! I'm obviously more beautiful than she is, so she has to use my children as tools against me to make herself look better!"

"You don't even know her!"

"Yeah, and neither do you! You know me, so listen to what I say!"

"Father would let me dance!"

"That's because your father thinks you're meant to be a star. Well you're not!"

"I will be a star, and you'll just keep being a drunk!"

Who knows why I called her a drunk, because I barely understood what that word meant. Maybe it was because Grandfather had called her a drunk earlier in the evening. "Drunk" was a word Mother hated, but she especially hated it when it came out of a little girl's mouth. She let out a growl that a rabid dog might make and hit me across the face. It wasn't a slap or a light jab, it was a full-on close-fisted punch. The whole right side of my face was burning, and the hot stream of tears leaving my eyes did little to alleviate the pain.

"You should be crying! Somebody had to tell you the truth! You're pretty, but you're not that smart. Don't ever thing of defying me again, or you'll get something much worse!"

It was a little after Midnight when Mother and I arrived home. Our coach driver had to carry Mother to the door, since she could no longer stand on her own. When the front door opened, I expected to see Daisuke or Ms. Ishimaru, who was our principal maid. Instead, I saw Father standing in the doorway; his eyes red from lack of sleep. He heaved a little sigh when the driver handed Mother over to him, which she took as a sign of disrespect.

"Well excuse me for having a little fun tonight!" Mother exclaimed.

"Look at you! You're a total mess from top to bottom. What happened to your clothes?"

"She fell in a fountain" I answered.

"Oh for heaven's sakes!" father said.

He was carrying a small lantern to guide him up the stairs, and while trying to keep Mother from tumbling down, he swung the lantern around so that the light fell right on my face. Father set Mother down on the floor next to the staircase and picked me up, rubbing his hand over the exact spot where Mother had hit me.

"How on Earth did you get such a big bruise?" he asked.

Before I had the chance to ask, Mother quickly answered for me.

"Oh Koji-san, she was such a handful tonight! I had to chase her around so much! She finally ran away from me and didn't watch where she was going. Before I could stop her, she tripped and hit her head on the edge of a table!"

Father knew that she wasn't telling the truth about chasing me around, because she would send a maid after me instead. However, I don't think Father could imagine his wife knocking his precious daughter around. Instead, he just accepted that I had a little accident and left it at that. I was too terrified to tell him the truth, because if Mother would hit me over calling her a drunk, what would she do to me if I said something worse?

Ms. Ishimaru, who had been preparing some herbal tea for Mother in the kitchen, later took me to the bedroom I still shared with Daisuke. He was sound asleep, so she gently placed me on my futon and said "goodnight". Even though I was tired and upset, sleep was eluding me. At first I thought about Mother's outbursts, but then I thought of Kumiyo and her beautiful dancing. Would she let a girl with a bruised face enter her classroom? I could only hope and pray to the gods that she would.


	4. Chapter III

It is said that the path one takes towards his or her destiny is a decision that isn't made by the traveler, but rather by the traveler's compass. A good compass will lead you to a life of success and happiness, but a faulty one will lead you down a path of destruction. Most girls in my situation would have surely been headed down the latter path, because all the riches in the world can't change the negative characteristics she inherited from an incompetent parent. In my day, all girls were expected to be just like their mothers, because of course a mother is typically the template for what to become. That is why I am most grateful to have had guidance and care from a wise woman like Kumiyo - she was a better mother to me than Mother ever was. She might not have fed or clothed me, but through her passion for the arts, she taught me how to navigate through any ugliness the path before me held.

On a cloudy afternoon about three weeks after the confusing night in which I first met Kumiyo and angered Mother, I was playing with some other neighborhood children in a large, grassy field close to an orchard. We were playing a silly little game that involved catching crickets with our bare hands. Whoever had the most crickets by the end of the game got to dare the person with the least amount of crickets to do something "crazy". A bossy little boy by the name of Aiko won, and he declared me the loser since I caught only four crickets. Really, another girl was the loser as she caught three crickets, but one of mine jumped out of the jar, so we tied. He must have had a crush on the other girl; in any case I was made the loser and had to perform a dare.

"You see that one?" Aiko said, pointing to a ripe apple hanging from a very high branch on a tree in the orchard, "I want you to bring it to me"

Now I had climbed trees before (even though Father warned me not to), but the apple Aiko wanted was on a branch so high up that just staring at it made me gulp.

"I can't do it!"

"Oh yeah I forgot you're a girl"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Girls are scared of everything!"

Two other boys in our group started mocking me, and that's when my fear gave way to spite. I walked right up to the base of the tree and clapped my hands to get their attention.

"Alright, so you think I'm a coward? I'll show you!"

I grabbed onto the lowest branch with a little jump and swung my body like a monkey to place my feet upon it. All the while I kept my eyes on the apple, reaching higher and higher until I could actually smell it. My playmates were cheering me on, which made me feel invincible. If I could grab the apple and safely climb down, all the boys would show me more respect. It would be fun to take that apple and plop it into Aiko's hands. Finally I could feel the apple in my own hand, and with a little tug I tore it from the branch and put it down my dress for safe-keeping. I expected to hear the children shouting praise for my fearlessness, but instead they had all fallen silent. I still had my eyes focused upward towards the top of the tree and the clouds above, but a man's voice thundered from below.

"Hoshi-chan, get down from there this instant!"

My stomach twisted in knots, because Father would probably punish me for putting myself in so much danger. I looked down - and the distance was startling - and found that it was actually Daisuke who was calling for me. He looked almost the same size as the crickets I had caught earlier. Suddenly I realized that climbing down would be impossible to do. How I effortlessly climb to the top without thinking of how to climb back down? Now I was scared, and all I knew to do was to cling onto the trunk of the tree and call to Daisuke for help. He must have recognized my fear, because he ran towards the tree and started climbing up. While the tree was large and intimidating to a girl of my size, to a tall, strong young man like Daisuke, it was little more than a hassle. Before long I was travelling down over Daisuke's shoulder, and he placed me firmly on the ground.

"Don't ever climb that high again!" he scolded, "You have a visitor back at the house. If you had fallen and broken something, Mrs. Yamada would have wasted her time by paying us a visit today"

My eyes grew wide, because I knew that Kumiyo had something important to tell me. I became conscious of how dirty my dress had gotten all at once, and I began to swipe all the dirt and grass away as Daisuke walked with me back to the house. In some ways, I felt even more nervous approaching Kumiyo than I felt while staring down at Daisuke from the tree - if she had come to tell me that I couldn't dance, my spirit would fall much faster and harder than I would have fallen amongst the branches.

After smoothing out my hair, Daisuke took me inside the den, where Kumiyo sat sipping tea and talking with Ms. Ishimaru. Father was tending to the store and Mother had an appointment with her hairdresser, so Daisuke was responsible for me. He gave a stern warning not to speak unless spoken to, and then he led me to the table. Daisuke kneeled across from Kumiyo, and I kneeled next to Ms. Ishimaru, who made a face when she saw how messy I looked. Kumiyo didn't seem too concerned with anything at the moment, in fact she looked relaxed.

"So Hoshi-chan, I have good news for you!" She said calmly, "You will be one of the first students enrolled in the Yamada School of Dance. Classes begin next week. Do you think you can be ready to start by then?"

"YES!" I shouted. I didn't mean to shout, but the excitement was speaking for me. Daisuke nudged my arm with his elbow, but Kumiyo only laughed in the same pleasant tone in which she spoke.

"Good. I've already spoken to your father at his store today. He said he would be thrilled to have you learn the art of dance with someone of my talent and reputation. I may also add that your father makes really delicious cherry dumplings. Anyway, your lessons have been paid for in advance, so there's no need to worry about money. All you need to do is show up on time and bring a good attitude! I don't think you'll have a problem doing that"

"She's quite a handful sometimes" Ms. Ishimaru commented, "Maybe you can teach her a few things about discipline!"

"You can't be a dancer if you're not disciplined. Are you listening, Hoshi-chan?"

I blinked a few times and looked down at my lap.

"I don't know what that word means" I answered.

"Discipline? Well, if you have discipline, it means you work hard and always do what's expected of you. If you can't discipline yourself, there's no point in me being here"

"Oh please Mrs. Yamada, I can try!" I blurted. Ms. Ishimaru and Daisuke both found my words amusing, because they knew how impatient I could get when given orders.

"Alright then, the first class begins next Tuesday. Show up in your best robe and don't be late"

Kumiyo said her thanks to us before asking Ms. Ishimaru to show her to the front door. As she stepped out into the cobblestone walkway, I watched the sunlight radiate off of a sapphire brooch on her obi. I would later learn that blue was Kumiyo's favorite color, and some of the guests she entertained as a geisha even called her "Shiratori-Aoi" or "Blue Swan", because of the rich sky-hued shades in her kimono and the swan-like dignity that she naturally possessed. Once again, my mind began to drift into fantasies of being in Kumiyo's body; wearing a fine silk kimono and walking with my head held high like a princess. My thoughts ran so deep that I almost didn't notice that she was calling my name.

"Hoshi-chan!" she called to me, "I'm sorry, but there is one thing I must ask of you"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Do you have any friends who would be interested in taking classes, too?"

"I could ask Junko. She's my best friend!"

"Junko? What is her last name?"

"Kobayashi"

"Kobayashi Junko? Thank you…I forgot that our class size was a little small when I first arrived here. Ask some of the girls at your school if they would also like to attend. If they are interested, tell them to tell their parents to contact me"

At this, she handed me a small business card with her name and address and instructed me to give it to Daisuke for safekeeping.

Four days of excitement and very little sleep followed for me. On Monday night I stared up at the ceiling in my futon while these various scenes were playing themselves out in my mind. I could see myself running down to a large building, even larger than Grandfather's mansion, and entering through two heavy wooden doors. I would be the first girl to arrive for dance classes, and Kumiyo would commend me for my punctuality. She would see how quick to learn I was and make me her principle student. All the other girls in Ofunato would want to be as beautiful and talented as me, but they would all fall short. I imagined that I was dancing on a grand stage, moving through the air like a feather floating softly to the ground, and my childhood friends were sick with jealousy as they watched from the audience. Old Ms. Inoue, with her grey hair and her wrinkled brow, would be forced to admit that I was more than just a pest. Even Mother, with her inclination to spitefulness, would see me as her pride and joy. I would truly be a star, the brightest star in Japan. Then I would be the brightest star in the world, and then -

"Hoshi! You'll be late!"

Ms. Ishimaru shook me around until I was fully awake and told me to hurry downstairs. She gave me a new blue cotton robe to change into and black lacquered zori for my feet. Next she smoothed my hair back and then she checked under my fingernails to make sure they weren't dirty. I was given a small piece of paper with a neat address written upon it, and Ms. Ishimaru instructed me to follow the directions carefully. I didn't even have time to eat breakfast, because Junko was already waiting to meet me outside so we could leave together. In fact, Junko was running around in the little flower garden to the side of my house. She had been picking dirt off of the side of her robe from where she had fallen earlier. I told her that we had no time to waste, and we ran down the Ofunato's dirty streets hand-in-hand, looking for a sign that read "Yamada Girl's Dance Academy". After a few minutes, it seemed as though we were totally lost, but Junko spotted another young girl in a blue robe dart past us on the busy streets.

"Hey!" Junko called out to her, "Are you taking dance lessons too?"

"Yes!" the girl answered, "The academy's just up the road past the old dry goods market. My father works there so he knows right where the dance academy is!"

All three of us hurried along until the girl stopped at the front of this sad looking building at the end of the street. It didn't look like the magnificent establishment I saw in my dream, but rather like one of the meat processing plants that Father had warned me not to play near. Junko tapped upon the door three times, and a grey-haired woman answered. She introduced herself as Kumiyo's aunt and told us to leave our zori in the hallway. Seven other girls were waiting with us, none of them older than nine or ten, and each wearing a blue robe just like mine. A girl who I recognized as the daughter of one of Mother's friends was talking to another girl standing next to Junko.

"Ms. Yamada used to be the most popular geisha in Kyoto" the girl said, "She stopped being one last year when Mr. Yamada married her"

"What is a Geisha? Are they dancers?" Junko asked

"Yes, and singers, and musicians, and actors, too!"

"Do I really have to sing?" Junko whined

"I think Ms. Yamada just wants us to dance. We're not training to be Geisha"

I was going to ask the girl how she knew all this information, but by that time Asami, the older woman who introduced herself as Kumiyo's aunt, had opened the door and shoved us through it. The room we were now standing in was smaller than I expected, but it was elegantly decorated with ink scrolls and smelled strangely like chrysanthemums. The floors were hard and wooden, and although some of the boards squeaked they were lined neatly and were cleaned well. Only one small window sat far up on the left wall, and the morning sun shone down upon a woman in a royal blue kimono with a golden dragon emblazed on the back. Of course, this woman was Kumiyo. I thought she would simply turn around and greet us with a bow, but instead she pivoted her torso around and rose up her arm in a sort of beckoning position. This was the signal for us girls to come closer, so Asami pushed us forward with a bamboo stick and instructed us to form a straight line in front of Kumiyo and wait for her to ask for our names.

After a short performance of a piece called "Sparrow's Lament", which only lasted about two minutes or so, and then she walked around the little line we'd formed, I suppose to get a good look at each of us.

"Only ten of you?" She asked, "I was expecting fourteen"

"Keiko has a fever" one girl said, "She can't make it"

"Well then…I suppose the other three girls are sick, too"

Just as Kumiyo said this, several loud knocks were heard at the door. When Asami answered, two girls plodded into the room, breathing heavily. Upon seeing Kumiyo, they immediately bowed to her and apologized for being late.

"Oh Mrs. Yamada, we're terribly sorry! We tried-"

"I don't want to hear it!" Kumiyo answered, "Something you girls need to me mindful of is punctuality. A chef preparing a delicious meal can only use ripe fruits. If a pear that takes too long to ripen, it will only be thrown out! Now I'll show some mercy for the both of you today, but if you're late again, I will terminate your lessons"

I felt sorry for both girls, who I assumed were sisters because their faces were so similar. However, even at the age of five, I knew that Kumiyo was right. Like Father, she was stern only when it was appropriate to be, but that sternness came from compassion and not meanness. Junko, who was standing at the end of the line to the left of me, told the younger sister that everything would be alright. Now I was standing towards the center of the line, and the girl to my right, the same one who knew so much about Kumiyo, only rolled her eyes.

"I go to school with those two" she said, turning to me, "They whine and cry about everything. I bet they won't be here for more than a month!"

"You know everybody, don't you?" I asked her.

She must have thought I was being smart, because her mouth formed a puckered smirk.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry. I just meant that you know a lot about Mrs. Yamada and-"

"Well I'm Mr. Yamada's niece! I'm staying with him until my father gets his business up and running again. He went bankrupt last year so Mr. Yamada has been caring for me"

"Oh…"

"Attention!" Kumiyo called out, "As I go down the line, please tell me your names and why you want to be a dancer"

Suddenly I felt my stomach tighten just a bit. I didn't think telling Kumiyo that I wanted to be just like her was the right response, but what else could I say? I had never danced before, and I hadn't thought about dance until she came into my life. Many of these other girls probably felt as I did, but as Kumiyo went down the line, each one gave very polite answers such as "to be more lady-like" or "to improve my balance". By the time Kumiyo reached Mr. Yamada's niece, I was scrambling to think of the right thing to say.

"Yamada Yoko" Kumiyo said to her, "Now I already know why you're here, but go ahead and tell me in your own words"

"I want to be a dancer so I can one day be famous like you!"

Kumiyo giggled a bit at Yoko's comment, as if to say "of course that's your answer". Next she turned to me; her large brown eyes peering down with the tranquility of a sage.

"Please tell me your name"

"Takeda Hoshi"

"And why would you like to be a dancer, Hoshi?"

I paused for a moment, and the fright of still not having a good answer made my hands shake.

"Well, Hoshi?"

"Umm…I want to be a dancer so I can become a geisha!"

Who knows why I said this, because I still didn't really understand what a geisha was. All the other girls in the line, including Junko, began to laugh at me. My face felt so hot from embarrassment that I covered it with my hand. I feared that Kumiyo would laugh at me, and not in the pleasant way that she had at Yoko's comment. This is why it was such a relief when Asami told the girls to be quiet. Kumiyo kneeled down and smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Very bold of you, Hoshi" she said, "Being a geisha means nothing. What you want to be is a _legend_. That is a privilege that few girls are worthy of. Many girls become geisha who are absolutely horrible at their crafts. It's one thing to be a good dancer, but it's something else to be a _great_ dancer. Only great dancers become legends"

"Well make me a legend then!" I answered.

Kumiyo didn't answer me, but instead turned to Junko for her answer, which was worse than mine, because she simply said "I'm here because my mother's sick of chasing me around the house". I think the real reason Junko's mother sent her to dance classes was to keep her from missing me too much, because the two of us were practically inseparable in those days. In any case, the rest of the day was something of a blur. Kumiyo showed us how to move our arms in such a way that our elbows wouldn't "knock", or protrude, and she also taught us a few breathing exercises that would improve our stamina. We didn't learn too much since it was only our first class, but things seemed off to a good start.

After the class had ended, Junko and I made our way towards the exit, but Asami stopped us.

"Hoshi-chan, Kumiyo would like to have a word with you" she said, "Please wait for her"

Junko was shooed out of the building with the other girls while I stood upon the wooden floors alone, fearing that I was awaiting some sort of punishment. When Kumiyo returned to the room and approached me, I politely bowed to her, and asked for forgiveness over my foolish wish to be a geisha.

"Why are you apologizing?" Kumiyo asked, "Being a geisha is much better than a lot of other things, I suppose. After all, I had high hopes at your age, too. For now I think it would be wise to just tell me you want to be more graceful or to learn better manners"

"Alright" I said as my head dropped to the floor.

"Don't look so sad! I'm not angry with you. It's just…Hoshi-chan, I don't want you to think that being a geisha is the only thing in live worth striving for. Do you understand me? I'm here to build your character through dance, not to turn you into a performer"

"But I do want to be a performer, Mrs. Yamada. When I saw you dance at the party, I knew that's what I wanted to do"

"Did I really make that good of an impression on you?"

"Yes, Ma'am"

"I feel honored that a little girl like you should admire me so, but please, let's take things one step at a time. Focus only on dancing now, not on where dancing can take you in the future. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes Ma'am"

"Good, now hurry home before your family worries"

Later that day, Father and Daisuke arrived home from the candy store and brought all kinds of questions about my day with them. I spent a good deal of time describing what little I'd learned, and while Daisuke was slowly losing interest, father's enthusiasm never waned.

"I'm so proud of you!" Father exclaimed, "This is only a stepping stone to something bigger, you know"

"But Father, Mrs. Yamada told me to only focus on dancing and not where dancing will take me"

"Maybe so, but I think you've got a bundle of talent that's waiting to be unleashed. When you were born, I noticed how long your fingers were. Those with long fingers are usually inclined to be good artists!"

"But I don't want to paint, I want to dance!"

Back then, I only knew the word "artist" to mean someone who painted or drew pictures, so Daisuke explained that art extended to many different things.

"Some might say that Father is an artist because his confections are so perfect that they become an art in themselves" Daisuke said, "anything can be art if it is done well".

"Really?" I asked him.

"Of course! Look at Mother for instance. She's mastered the art of getting what she wants by being beautiful. Now that's not something any smart girl should ever master, but Mother's never been that smart"

"Daisuke!" Father said with a sort of rasp in his voice, "She's still my wife and I prefer that you respect her"

"I was just giving Hoshi an example that even something insignificant can be mastered to the point that it becomes artistic"

"Well in that case, you've certainly mastered the art of being a sour little toad" Mother said. She had been listening in on our conversation all along from the kitchen.

To annoy her, Daisuke began making little frog-like grunts, and I started laughing loudly. Father couldn't help but laugh a bit himself, but of course Mother didn't like being mocked. She kicked Daisuke in the leg and told him to be quiet, and then she cupped her hand over my mouth.

"Well it's nice to know you had a great day, Hoshi" she said in a rather sarcastic tone, "Now make yourself useful and get out of the house"

"Why do I have to leave?"

"Because I'm tired of you and your brother biting at my heels like little mosquitoes! Go outside!"

"I think it's time for you to go outside" Father said to Mother, his voice flat and cold.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"Don't kick my son in the leg! Of course he wasn't respectful to you, but let me handle the situation"

"You actually think I'm in the wrong! One of these days you're going to push me too far, Koji-san! I swear to the gods!"

"Oh yes, go on, say I'm a bad husband. Demonize me some more. Do whatever you have to do to feel better about yourself"

"Why can't you ever admit you're wrong, Koji?"

Father didn't even bother answering her, but instead told Daisuke to take me to my bedroom. He then followed behind us up the staircase, but Mother pulled on his arm until he fell down onto his side.

"DON'T WALK OUT ON ME!" she yelled, "Say you're wrong! SAY IT!"

"Alright, I was wrong. I'm sorry"

Having gotten what she wanted yet again, Mother traipsed back into the kitchen to critique the soup Ms. Ishimaru was making. As for Father, he pulled himself off the floor and headed back up the stairs. I was too confused to feel upset, but Daisuke was clearly unhappy.

"Sometimes I think he only married her because Grandfather would help his business" Daisuke muttered.


	5. Please Read

To everyone who subscribed to this fan fic series and liked it, I am truly sorry for having left it unfinished. The truth of the matter is that I realized that I just don't know enough about Japanese culture from this time period to write a believable story centered on it. I still have the plot line in my head, but until I learn a bit more about the life of a geisha, I cannot continue this series. I hope you understand


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